One More Sonnet

Tag: peace

  • Angling

    Angling

    All I did was drop a line, nothing more
    than simply give you cause to contemplate.
    It was not my chin that dropped, not my jaw
    that took umbrage; not me who bit the bait.
    You could have let it go, let it dangle.
    Instead, you gave it a tug, you tested
    the line; turned what was slack into tangle.
    It was you who floundered, then protested.
    Nonetheless, you did nothing to resist
    it’s ascorbic tang; and so, there you hang,
    dangling from a string of words, a long list
    of ponderings that promulgated pang.
    . What lures fish from the safety of rocks?
    . It’s the slightly plausible paradox.

    © Tim Grace, 21 January 2012

    To the reader: It doesn’t take much to create a fuss over a line of words. Retracting that string of thought is difficult; it gets snagged so easily. On a good day a contentious thought might be openly aired; on a bad day it becomes a most enticing deep-water bait. As it sinks a small school of fish nibbles its edges; but then, along comes a shark with far bigger intentions. Discretion being the better part of valour decrees the warranted loss of hook, line and sinker… one should never angle for a fight.

    To the poet: This sonnet did follow an argument over the previous sonnet regarding silos. Why two people would choose to angrily debate the virtues of a silo I don’t know. Nonetheless, it spawned a good piece of purgative poetry. The poem has some satisfying sub-elements that I enjoyed merging into its deeper layers of construction; for later in depth analysis.

     

    angling Angling
    Picture Source: http://youtu.be/rG1xOUIykhY

     

  • Peace Extols

    Peace Extols

    Most days come and go, not so with this one.
    This one lingers somewhat longer than most.
    This one reminds us of the good we’ve done.
    Of this ‘one day’ we neither brag nor boast.
    There’s a sombreness about this ‘one day’.
    It’s the ‘one day’ of all days when we pause
    to acknowledge the fallen and to pray
    that in their memory we recognise the cause
    that gave them their reason to sacrifice,
    so selflessly, their gold and silver themes;
    and then to give, regardless of the price,
    a new set of hopes, a new set of dreams.
    . Let this ‘one day’ bring comfort to their souls,
    . for they have earned the rest that peace extols.

    © Tim Grace, 11 November 2011

    To the reader: Sombre and respectful, as they are, collective commemorations are reassuring; an inter-generational confirmation of commitment to each others’ national interests. Often sprinkled through the calendar that ‘one day’ is loaded with patriotic symbolism. That ‘one day’ bares the burden of testimony. We are reminded of heroic deeds of self-sacrifice and strength of character; drawn to action in the face of unimaginable fear. Those that died on our behalf … we will remember them; they died in war, they rest in peace.

    To the poet: The current of a flowing river is to some extent just a mathematical calculation. Given no reason to do otherwise, a river that follows its direction without resistance or impedance will behave predictably; without much character. This sonnet begins like that… four steady sentences to begin with. But then, the river of words begin to flow. The next eight lines blend to form a single ribbon of sense – punctuated to give it an uneasy rippling; an agitation that finds stoic resolution; at end, the reassurance of peace.

     

    peace extols peace extols